The Secret Biology of the Fair
by FloodFeSTeR
Summary: Loish is the reluctant Listener, the timid Harbinger and the doubtful Dovahkiin. Led by voices, the troubled young Nord returns to Helgen, a mistake that leads to the most dangerous journey of her life. - Branches out to DLC's and main questline, Theives Guild plays a prominent role but really just it's own separate quest -
1. Preface

_So, after making a surprisingly attractive Nord woman – I never usually go Nord but something said do it – and these ideas started going through my head and here we go. _

_Please review. Even if it's criticism, I appreciate it._

**_Warning (s): _**_Future chapters may contain questionable content and perhaps a few triggers._

* * *

He came back alone.

Vex was doing lookout.

Delvin was checking the books.

He was too engrossed in the numbers to hear Brynjolf approach.

He staggered back as a bloody hand slammed down on the desk, droplets staining the books and littering the Gray Fox bust situated on the corner of the desk.

Delvin looked up seeing the horror on Brynjolfs face and the mark on his armor.

Nightingale.

His eyes looked back up to Brynjolf, meeting deep green, blood shot orbs. There was a faint smear of blood across his right cheek and one full bloody handprint on the gray armor of his right forearm. His shoulders were shaking and Delvin noticed the familiar worn pack strapped around his waist. There was something inside, straining against the zipper.

"Bryn…" Delvin spoke cautiously.

Vex, Vipir, Cynric and several others were beginning to gather, whispers hitting the walls of the Cistern.

Brynjolf swallowed. "Karliah…Loish…" he almost seemed to be in pain. "They're gone…"

Delvin's throat went dry; his eyes drifted towards the pack. "And that…"

"The Right Eye of the Falmer."

The Cistern grew quiet and Brynjolf finally let his head hang, slowly, shoulders shaking fiercely.

In grief.

In horror.

In remembrance of her scream laced with his name.

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Covers more than the Thieves Guild questline but it is a big part of the story. Of course, this scene has taken place waaaay later in the chapters._

_No Brynjolf/Dovahkiin pairing._


	2. Meet Her

_So, this starts when you have to kill Gaius Maro but I'm tweaking it to where all but Astrid and Festus make it out of Falkreath and get to Dawnstar. Another note is that the Sanctuary is rebuilt before you go for the Emperor. Is that alright with everyone?_

* * *

Gaius Maro looked up from the parchment in his hand, his fingers stalling with a quill as he marked off the supplies the guardsmen needed. He looked right then left, his ears twitching, trying to pinpoint the noises he was hearing.

A soft sobbing.

His brow furrowed and then the soldier in front of him caught his attention, looking strangely concerned with the man in front of him. "Sir, what's wrong?"

Maro scowled gently. "Tend to your own wounds, soldier," he growled, forcing the parchment and quill into his hands. "Finish the inventory, I have something to see."

The soldier sputtered, taking the items without protest, watching in silence as Maro curled his fingers around the hilt of his sword. Maro stalked around the entrance way leading to the Temple of the Divines and briefly glared at the flowery decorations that had served not three days ago to a disastrous wedding. Locusts were beginning to eat at the lavender still in the braziers and hot coals still crackled in the corners.

But there was that soft sobbing again.

He looked around, reaching up with his free hand to push the rim of his helmet up his forehead, out of his eyes. He saw her then, a woman hunkered in one of the dark corners. She was curled in dark clothing and there was obviously blood seeping across the inside of her right ankle. Despite his father's stern and harsh upbringing, the softness in Maro's heart peeked. No matter the race – Nord, Khajiit or even Argonian – no woman should be subjected to any kind of abuse.

He let go of his sword, convinced he was safe in the tight space of a closed off courtyard, and approached her slowly. "Ms…" he watched her shoulders stiffen. "Ms, are you alright?"

She sniffed and wiped her hand across her nose, looking up at him through a matting of matted black hair. Her violet eyes turned on him and he sensed some sort of familiarity, but brushed it off. She was pretty in the face but her cheeks were smeared with dirt and he noticed the scars running up the right side of her face. She swallowed and went to scramble to her feet, but then gave a sharp cry of pain and crumpled against the cobblestone again.

"Please don't get up," he urged, taking another step forward until he was hovering above her. "We can take you to the healers inside the Temple, may I carry you?"

She shook her head fiercely, her shoulders shaking. His brow furrowed and he looked to the temple doors. He knew she would run if he went to get help and she needed a healer. He didn't like magic, never had a taste for it but he wished he would have listened when his mother said to just take the lessons for restoration. It would have come in handy more times than one. He shook his head and braced his hand broadly on either side of her.

"Please, I'm only trying to help," he tried again.

She looked up at him with an almost hopeful look; he didn't even notice her reached into the satchel around her hip. She looked as though she wanted to smile. "You-You're such a kind young man," he graced her with a small smile; it fell quickly as he noticed the way the violet in her eyes seemed to shift, roll like water, and she grinned. "But you should have been more like your father."

He let out a strangled, nearly mute, cry as she drove the dwarven dagger into the soft spot of his armor. She grinned maniacally as she twisted it to the right and pushed him back. He landed on the ground with a thud, tears falling across his temples as he writhed in agony, trying to call for help but he couldn't even breathe. He curled his hands around the dagger but she knocked his hand away, jerking it out forcefully. Blood _gushed _out onto the cobblestone and he felt his lids beginning to grow heavy.

His eyes rolled and he saw her standing above him. She had pulled the dark rags from her body and used them to clean the blade, sliding it back into the hilt on her right thigh where it belonged. Her armor was tight and black, red patches here and there revealing the pouches and buckles keeping the armor on her. She had a hood pinned around her collar and pulled it up as she stood over him; he could see the minor regret in her eyes, she wasn't a killer. Not really.

"Now that you're dead," she pulled a slip of paper from her breast pouch and held it between two fingers mockingly. "I can plant this on you, taking all suspicion and placing it on the guard. The Emperor will be dead within the next week," she crouched beside him, opening the pouch on his hip. "And you will be to blame," she paused and plucked the other note in his pouch, zipping it back with the incriminating letter inside.

She unfolded the letter and then smiled softly, a faint sheen to her eyes. Gaius Maro coughed up a blood clot, feeling himself dying. Father…he had to tell his father. But this was it. There was no one here to help him. He would be framed, she would slip away into the night and everyone would wonder who the brave hero was that saved their beloved Emperor from getting slaughtered. While those thoughts were fresh, Titus would be bleeding out in the same fashion as the innocent at her feet.

"Did you read this before you left Dragonbridge," she raised her eyebrows at him. "_Gaius, my beloved son – you may be new to the Penitus Oculatus, but I need someone I can trust. You must carry out your duty, for the safety of the Emperor, the glory of the Penitus Oculatus, and the honor of the Maro family name. Your superior officer – and loving father – Commander Maro_," she tsked gently, folding the letter and sliding it into her back pocket. "You really let your father down, Gaius," she stood straight. "Plotting to murder the Emperor and all," her grin was made more twisted by the fact shadows covered her eyes. "Oh well, I supposed the truth will be none once you find each other again in Oblivion."

She stepped over him, picking at her nails as she headed for the door that would lead to the balcony. She watched gently as she slid through the door, making sure no one saw her. As she closed the door behind her, she heard the scream of a woman – most likely coming from the temple – and then heard boots charging past the door. She looked back warily, concerned and guilty, then hurried up the steps and to the balcony.

She dropped down onto one of the alcoves above the courtyard, watching healers pronounce him dead. She swallowed thickly as one of the soldiers found the letter and urgent messages were ordered to be written. The leader of the threats was dead, the alarm was left unsounded. She grabbed Firiniel's End and then leapt from the balcony, slipping around the agents too concerned with the body to know his murderer was breathing down their neck.

* * *

"Here, this'll make the pain go away," she muttered, placing a lit hand against the wound in Veezara's side.

He stared at her with those wide eyes and smiled the best he could. "Thank you," he nearly purred as the soft warmth dulled the pain, just as she had promised. "You seem troubled, Loish. What could be bothering you?"

Her violet eyes connected with his rather large orbs and she smiled softly, feeling her magicka drained and she pulled her hand away, extinguishing the glow in her palm. She settled her hands into her lap and looked up, breathing in so heavily her shoulders covered her neck for a moment.

"He just…he looked so confused…"

The Argonian Assassin swallowed and hummed, reaching up to place a clawed hand on her thin shoulder. "I understand the burden you feel," he cringed slightly and lowered his arm, feeling the wound stretching with the movements. "But in time, these worries will fade and you will come to understand what we do is for the good of all. It may affect small lives for the time being, but as a whole those gone will breathe life into a new time."

Loish's lips twitched slightly at how old he sounded and looked back to him. "I know you're right Veezara I just," she shook her head slightly. "I was just never much of a killer. Astrid happened upon me by accident."

Veezara nodded. "I know, but perhaps there was a reason behind it. Fate, if you will."

_It was your fate to become Listener…_

She flinched at the sound of his voice echoing in her head and then stood abruptly. "I have plans to make for the Emperor," her voice cracked softly. "You understand if I have Babette care for you in the morning?"

He nodded softly. "Yes, Loish. Rest, won't you?"

She didn't say anything, she didn't nod. She just slipped out and shut the door behind her, pausing with her hand still on the knob. Her eyes stared in faint interest at the stone beneath her feet and she sighed, letting go of the handle and rubbing her face.

"What am I doing," she muttered, turning to head towards the room at the end of the hall.

Inside the room were bookshelves lining as much space as possible, filled with books of all kinds and letters, journals she recovered on her journeys across Skyrim. So many things, so much diverse knowledge. She was surprised she could keep up with it all.

As she shed her tight armor and laid it on the table beside her bed, she studied the wood grain of her dresser then shook her head.

She had never been so spacey. True, she wasn't the most intelligent and focused person in the world, but she had never been this bad. Perhaps it was the way Gaius had looked to her in anguish. Perhaps it was the way she hated murder and even the sight of intelligent blood. She had no quarrels with slaying beasts, but she even had a hard time killing dragons because of the amount of intelligence in their minds. When they breathed ice, fire or even simple air onto her, she could hear the language, but not understand it. And that was almost too much for her to bare.

So much knowledge gone to waste.

She fell onto her bed, sighing into the cover made of saber fur and relished the softness for a brief moments before she stood once again and shuffled over to a chest in the far corner of the room. It was behind the door, hidden behind a few cobwebs and a layer of dust. As she produced the key from the strap around her right ankle, she unlocked the chest and eyed the armor inside.

"_For your travels_," Aela had told her. "_To feel the power of our ancients and rival the glory they achieved in such armor._"

Aela's Armor.

The armor she had worn since she had turned seventeen, if Aela had been telling the truth.

It was heavy and durable, flexible enough and it covered the weakest points in her body. Loish never wore it because she did not feel worthy and she still didn't feel such honor, but this was the only armor she had and she could not afford to buy a new set when she rode through Dawnstar in the afternoon. Her Brotherhood armor was for sneaking, and she rarely battled in it. There was never a need when she was wearing it.

She was unseen.

Her heart nearly jumped into her throat when there was a knock on the door and Loish let the trunk snap shut, opening the door in nothing but her smalls. Nazir eyed her curiously for a moment and then he shook his head, waving a hand at her.

"I take your lack of modesty as the sign that you are about to go on a mission I'm going to try and talk you out of," he smirked at her slightly.

She smiled gently. "You get smarter and smarter every day, Nazir," she hesitated then gestured for him to come into her room. "Mine as well come in."

He bowed his head gently and entered, promptly sitting in one of the chairs at the table she had in the corner. She sat across from him, his face reading business, hers still appearing as fragile and terrified as she had been all those weeks ago when she first joined the Dark Brotherhood. She folded her hands in front of herself and bowed her head, her eyes still full of concern as though he were asking her to do another contract.

"So where are you going this time," he muttered.

She shook her head and looked up at him with genuinely scared eyes. "I don't know."

He sighed. "Loish…"

She pressed her hands palm-flat against the table, her face contorted into an expression as though she were trying to convince him to let her go. But he would never get her to stay, no matter what kind of argument it heated to.

"I don't know where I'm going I just know I _have _to go," she breathed in deeply through her nose, calming herself. "You have to understand, Nazir."

He stared at her with those serious set eyes, his fingers thrumming heavily on the table top. Loish wasn't the most…_stable _woman he had met, and he had met some seriously insane people – Cicero being a prime example. It wouldn't be so bad if she had been more accepting an open about it. Her innocence and kind heart betrayed her mind set and he was always concerned on whether she would come back or not.

On whether she would eventually turn on them all or not.

"I can't stop you, we both know that," she smiled slightly. "But I can give you a word of warning," her smile dropped. "If you find yourself in trouble, use your Thu'um."

Her back prickled but she nodded, fingers curling into fists on the table top. After a moment of silence Loish straightened her back. "What was it you wanted, Nazir?"

His lips twitched in the corners. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright," he stood and started for the door. "Veezara said he was concerned when you came to check on him a moment ago."

Loish stood and opened the door for him, smiling fully as he stepped out into the hallway. "I'm fine, you tell him that," she sighed, but the smile remained. "Just conflicted, and you tell him that."

Nazir nodded once. "I will…but I suggest you say something to him before you leave."

Loish groaned and threw her head back then smiled again. "Fine…fine I will. But not until morning."

"Right, right," the Redguard began to walk down the hallway, waving a hand over his shoulder.

Loish chuckled slightly and closed the door, the smile fading as she pressed her back firmly against the fresh wood. Where Nazir could afford such things, she didn't know. She looked over at the chest, chewing on her lip and then she began to ceremonially blow out each candle around the room, soon bathed in darkness.

As she curled into a ball in the center of the bed, head tucked between her knees, she knew this was where she belonged.

"Hello darkness," she grinned, revealing sharp, jagged, teeth the tendrils sliding across her, breathed into life by old magic. "My old friend…"


	3. It Begins

_Thank you to Rae An who reviewed…almost as soon as I posted the preface. It made me so incredibly happy that you like it. I hope I can keep it up. And concerning the PM I sent you, when I got the email that you reviewed, I clicked and it said the story wasn't there. After awhile, it just wouldn't show the review so I, of course, went to my followers list and had a hunch it was you. But then I finally got to see the reviews and here we are._

_I'll be quiet now._

* * *

_She was on her knees, at the headsman's block._

_Tears ran down trembling cheeks as she stared, wide eyed, at the milky gray eyes of the man that had come before her. His head still lay in the basket, his face resembling peace. But she wasn't at peace. No, she was far from peace. _

_She gave a small amount of force as a boot was pressed against her back and then she gave in, letting herself be pushed into the dirt. Her hair was streaked with mud and her cheeks were swollen from the trauma she suffered from one of the Imperial's fists. Her eyes rolled to the glistening cerulean sky. It brought comfort to her for some reason and she gave a weak smile._

_But it was soon dashed as she saw a slithering, inky figure moving through the sky over the mountains. It let out a sharp cry and soldiers looked around, surprised at how loud the noise had gotten when the ground rumbled. Loish was shaking in fear, her eyes set on the massive, thorny, monster that had landed on top of the guard tower. It almost grinned and reared its head back, jerking forward as a loud noise came from between its jagged teeth. It sounded like thunder and Loish screamed at the pain it caused in her ears, scrambling as best she could with her wrists still bound._

_Hands grabbed her as the beast tore back to the sky and she found it was the man she had spoke to in the cart, the one called Ralof. He was saying something but she couldn't hear it and didn't really care to, she just wanted to get the hell out of there. As soon as Ralof pulled her into the tower, she wasn't one for listening and looked for the next possible exit, knowing from the groans that this tower could come down any minute._

_She bolted for the stairs, balancing faltering because of her bound hands. She reached the top of the steps before she saw the soldier trying desperately to move the rocks out of the way. Her hope sank into her gullet as she saw the exit of the tower crumbled and then she screamed again as rubble crumbled in front of her, a few heavy pieces stinging her legs and right arm as she braced herself._

_She heard the gurgling, nasally, breathing and froze, swallowing thickly. As she turned to the new hole in the tower she began to hyperventilate, her heart racing in her chest as she saw her reflection in crimson eyes._

* * *

The sight was still not one that any in the Brotherhood were comfortable with.

Loish at the foot of the Night Mother's coffin, eyes open on the stone beneath her as she knelt on bent knee, right hand clenched into a fist on the floor while her left hand gripped her knee tightly. Her lips were moving fast and her words were too low for anyone to hear, but it was still disturbing.

"Yes, Mother," her voice was finally loud enough to be heard.

As she stood, back straight, Babbette seemed to glide down the steps to her left and two of the new initiates that had been watched slinked away. Nazir stayed planted where he was, arms crossed over his chest as Loish approached him. He stared at her armor with discontent, not understanding her purpose in such rugged and old armor but he didn't question it. It would just lead to long, tedious explanations he didn't want to hear right now.

As he locked eyes with her, he saw the plead for forgiveness he had no right to accept. There was no reason for her to apologize.

"Just make it back safe, alright," he urged.

She nodded once, twice, eyes lingering over his shoulder for a moment before she smiled at him. "I can do this…I know I can."

Who was she trying to convince, herself or him?

"I could give you more approval if I knew where you were going."

She began nodding halfway through his sentence, looking down. "I know, and I'm sorry I can't tell you. Like I said, even I don't know where I'm going."

In truth, she didn't. Maybe it was all the bloodshed – which she obviously was not accustomed to – or the way her blood boiled being locked up underground for so long. She knew she had a temper and for a long time, she had been able to control it. But lately, it was beginning to become a guessing game on when she would lose it next. She didn't want to harm anyone in the Brotherhood, so she would have to leave for awhile. Maybe kill off a few wild animals, tie up some loose ends, then she could let herself back into her society.

She was the Listener, after all.

She would be needed until her last dying breath.

"The Night Mother has said there are no contracts for the moment, so I am free to go," Loish gave another sigh; she was doing that a lot lately. "Hopefully this little episode will wear off soon enough and I can come back to you guys."

"You have a month," Nazir followed her towards the secret entrance, watching Loish undo the hinges and locks that kept the symbol of Sithis closed. "I will give the Emperor his props, he insisted on finishing his tour but that is it."

"Guess he wants to show Skyrim that the empire is not affected by financial and personal ruin," Loish scowled. "Either way, I will be sure to make it back before then in one piece."

"Hail Sithis."

Loish looked back at him briefly, saw that smile and then muttered 'Hail Sithis' before she closed the large circular panel behind her.

* * *

It was so…_hot_.

Loish screamed as the dragon swept overhead, its thick talons scrabbling for her but missing her by a hair.

She rebounded in a flash, her arms drawing back an elven arrow and launching in a matter of seconds. She did so several more times, chasing the dragon with arrows she would try to retrieve if she could remember. Her face was stone as she carved through the sky, the dragon giving a mighty roar as an arrow sunk into the tender flesh of its belly. She grinned, feeling that primal side come out. That was why she hated battling with dragons. Her instincts of the same breed took over and she thought of herself as one, a ground one at that, but still a dragon.

And she was not to be bested against such a weak species anyway.

She lowered the bow and placed her middle and forefinger into the corners of her mouth, letting out a shrill whistle Shadowmere heard. His ears twitched and he looked towards the sky, all-be-it a bit lazily, and then took off towards the gates of Whiterun. Just like she had told him to do.

She watched his flanks disappear through the pines before she turned her attention back to the dragon.

And her distraction was not one she should have accepted.

The dragon advanced, talons at the ready as it slammed her into the earth.

A gut wrenching scream echoed against the valley – and it was not the dragons.

Tears welled in her eyes and poured over her cheeks, wetting them as though she had been splashed with water. The dragon had drove her nearly fifteen feet into the earth. But she was still there, she was still alive, in tact, but very much in pain. As she sobbed and choked on dust, the dragon reared its head up, flinging it's maw towards the sky and letting out a clap of a Thu'um before it _grinned _down at her. So helpless beneath their claws.

"_Hi krif ko naaf, Dovahkiin_."

She knew it was a laugh.

Its lips curled over blackened teeth and it's whole body rumbled, head bobbing as maniacal glee shuddered through its amber orbs. She looked to her right, saw her arm buried beneath a weak layer of rubble. Her fingers were still curled around the bow and her arrows were more than likely crushed from the force against her back. Her blade was at her hip and there was no hope of getting to it, not while both arms were pinned.

"_Zu'y friend krif ko hi, joor_," the dragon reared its head back once more. "_Nuz til los nid hind!_"

Her eyes widened as they reflected the roll of fire at the back of the dragons throat. Her body ceased and she felt it then too, the roll of ancient power rolling in her gut. Her pupils shifted to slits and the violet irises rolled like waves of water, the power giving them more of a glow than anything. As her lips parted, the Thu'um exploded into the mouth of the Dovah and the monster went reeling back. Its wings beat at the sky, trying to drag it upwards but instead it's back connected with the ground and Loish let out another sob of freedom.

With the strength of Dov blood, she wrenched her arms free from the earth they were buried in and leapt to her feet, a snarl ripping from between her pale teeth as she clambered up the edge of the large hole left by the dragon's earlier attack. When she reached the rim of the gorge, she ducked as the dragons tail swung overhead. But it wasn't aiming for her, it was still thrashing in pain from the shout she had unleashed into its throat.

The Mark of Death.

She had learned it in a tomb, one she hadn't expected a Word Wall to be in. But she was now thankful for whatever reason it was there for because now, the dragon had a true weak spot. Most of its throat was glowing with a faint purple glow and Loish twisted this way and that, nearly being flattened by the right wing that slammed just against the back of her ankles. She flung her bow as far from her as she could and in the same movement, tore her sword from its sheath. She let out a guttural scream as she drove the sword forward, the blade slicing easily through the newly tender flesh and Loish grinned in a way she hated, but knew necessary.

The dragons eyes rolled to her, hatred simmering in the shrunken pupils before Loish saw the hot, white inferno begin to engulf those tender morsels. Loish pulled her sword from the dragons throat, watching – briefly – as blood dripped from the thin-tipped end onto the fresh earth the dragon had torn up in his fury. When she looked back to the dragon, ancient bones had become visible and she could almost hear the dragon Thu'um, the language she had no knowledge of. She could see the experiences, the flames and murder, the riches and darkness that inhabited the Soul Cairn – where most dragon souls went to be reaped by the infamous Durnehviir – from the beasts long time in waiting for Alduin to resurrect him.

Only to be put down by her blade while she greedily ate his soul.

The light always packed a punch, but this was weak and incomparable to the souls of the ancients she had devoured.

She didn't hear the metal clang of armor until it was too late.

Her eyes shot wide and she came slamming back down to earth with the weight of a fully grown warrior forcing her to the ground.

"Farkas," she let out a gasp and saw Vilkas smiling slightly from the sidelines. "Farkas, please get off."

"No."

Loish sighed and gave up, relaxing under his bulk. He was mad at her. She knew that, and when it was just her and the twins, Farkas really showed just how kind and tender-hearted he was. In a way, it bothered the Dovahkiin to see such a large man be so…innocent, child like even. But then again, perhaps that was how it went with twins. She had never met any others in Skyrim and Farkas and Vilkas seemed to be two halves of a whole.

"Farmers came to Whiterun," Vilkas explained before Loish could ask the obvious question. "Said they saw a lone woman fighting a dragon."

"And of course, you knew I was the only one foolish enough to try such a thing," she nodded in contempt as Farkas helped her to her feet. "Of course."

Vilkas frowned. "Loish…"

She waved a hand at him and started towards the hole made by the now dead dragon. "It's fine, really," she kicked up dust as she slid down the slope, eyes locked on the quiver settled down in the rubble. "Where is Shadowmere?"

"He's eating hay at the stable," Vilkas scowled as Loish grumbled to the bent quiver carved with feathers. "Ya know, Skulvar was not pleased to see the red eyed beast walk into his stables."

"Well," Loish began to climb out of the hole, smiling at Farkas as he took a hold of her right hand and pulled her to her feet. "I don't really give a damn on how he feels for the moment. I just killed a dragon and I am going to rest for the night. Shadowmere will be spending the night with him and his horses."

Vilkas chuckled and then watched Farkas walk ahead of them. His grin dropped and he looked down at the small Nord woman that was sliding her torso through the taut string of her faintly humming bow. "What are you doing out here, Loish?"

She looked up at him curiously. What could her defense be? That she was just wanting to see them? No, no Vilkas knew Loish better than most. She never came around without a singular purpose and it must be a serious doosey for her to come all the way to Whiterun. After another moment of silent staring and then Farkas calling for them, she grinned. It wasn't maniacal or evil, it was deceiving for the innocent man staring at them.

"Trust me."

* * *

_For the curious, and I know there are some out there, Loish isn't necessarily mad - meaning like Cicero. In my mind, she is stuck somewhere in between, ya know. She has drastic mood shifts but mostly she is somewhat of a dunce, an air head, too innocent for her own good. _


	4. Her Belief's

_**Mind the spelling mistakes. I'm having to type this on my phone and it won't do autocorrect :(**_

_**And a big thank to those that have reviewed! Appreciated just so much:) Mostly to Rae An. Details aren't usually my strong suit cus I get lost and add too many but dragon fights are fun and I can be really creative with them.**_

_**And the character development will be fun as well. Hope you continue to enjoy.**_

* * *

"It's not like we can stop you."

Loish nodded once, lifted the glass case to reveal the Dwarven greatsword she had refused to touch. _Until now_, she thought almost bitterly.

Vilkas was leaning against the doorframe to the Harbingers quarters. For a brief moment, he eyed Kodlak's ethereal form seated in one of the chairs in the corner but, as Loish blocked his line of sight, the vision was gone and he was staring at her once again. She had the greatsword strapped to her back and was looking at him with this strange look in her eyes.

"You still trust me, right?"

His eyes softened ever-so-slightly and he thought of reaching out to grab her. Some part of her. He didn't know which part, but he just wanted to _touch _her. "I always trust you, Loish."

She noticed the tone in his voice and her guard was back up. She brushed past him, face stern, and then paused halfway down the hallway. Her small fists clenched at her sides and then she twisted around to look at him. He was staring at her, giving her a look that almost said 'I'm sorry'. Her mouth opened, once, twice, as though she were going to speak, and then she turned back towards the door. As soon as it opened, she came face-to-face with Aela and noted the slight shock on the Huntress' face.

"Loish," she looked the Harbinger up and down slowly. "I didn't know you were around."

Loish looked up from under her brow. "Yeah well…it was a mistake to come back here…"

Aela didn't question her as Loish side stepped her and started for the front door. Aela did look back however, only to see a brief flash of pale sun light come through the doors before they snapped shut. The Huntress walked into the underhalls of Jorrvaskr and found Vilkas in the Harbinger's quarters. He was rolling one of the unusual gems Loish had left for safe keeping. It was floating gently in its cushioned case while Aela watched Vilkas, who was trying to ignore her.

"You are going to bring her back to us," Aela spoke sternly. "You are going to go out there and find her and bring her back. Without a fight. Between me and you, between you and her. She will be home, she will be safe and you will start that process."

He looked up at her from under that dark brow, as if threatening her to order him again. But he knew she was right and sighed, placing the gem on the nightstand where it belonged. He hated when she was right. That was the thing about Aela, despite Vilkas' intelligence, she was still the more level-headed one around here. She should have been the Harbinger, not Loish. As soon as such a thought crossed his mind, he cringed and then shook his head.

"I will go after her, but I cannot promise she will return with me."

"She will return."

She sounded so sure of it.

Vilkas was almost convinced.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me you were in town?"

Loish looked up from the grindstone, seeing Ralof leaning against one of the pillars to her right. She smiled at him warily and pulled her weapon from the stone, sheathing it delicately. She embraced him in the largest hug she could muster, but he always seemed to best her.

"It's good to see you," she pulled away gently, keeping him unaware of the discomfort. "I didn't know you were still in Riverwood," she tucked a strand of ebony hair behind her right ear.

Ralof shrugged a little. "Just got back from dealin' with a few things in Falkreath, thought I'd take a break and help Gerdur around the mill for awhile," he eyed the steed she had to the railing, noticing the packs and not the flowing rd eyes. "Where you headed?"

She bit her tongue, temped not to tell him, but her mouth moved faster than her mind. "Helgen."

His eyes took in the same fear hers usually held. "Why, Loish?"

She shook her head again, looking up through sweat stained bangs. "You wouldn't understand," she hadn't even thought about where she was headed until she had seen the arch's of Bleak Falls Barrow overhead.

"Try me."

She shook her head again. "Ralof…it's not something I really wanna talk about. Think we could do this later, ya know, after I get back?"

"Well, I'm going with you," he insisted.

Loish pushed him slightly, towards Gerdur's mill. "No, I'm doing this alone," he words were beginning to get shaky. "I have nightmares, Ralof, about what happened. Almost every night, I wake up screaming," she swallowed thickly. "You know what that's like, don't you?"

Ralof hesitated but then nodded solemnly. "Yes…yes I do."

It was no lie, he remembered the flames. Remembered seeing that ancient beast snatch a guard and fling him too high to survive. He remembered watching that body come back down, hit the stone and just turn into nothing. Same nightmares, over and over again. He wondered if anyone else suffered the same pains. It seemed, on the surface, that only he and Loish suffered the same illness and strife.

Ralof shook his head gently. "I would think that was what was keeping you _away _from that bloody place…"

Loish straightened her back and then sagged, looking just so defeated. "You would think that right," she muttered and then shook her head. "No…no, it's what brings me back. There's something there, something I need to find. I don't know what it is yet, but it's there and I'm going for it."

Ralof watched her walk back to her horse for a moment, watched her steps wobble and then he approached her again. "At least let me accompany you."

She stared at the comforting hand he had outstretched to her right and pushed it down, a small smile coming onto her lips. "No Ralof," she muttered. "I have to do this on my own. I am Dovahkiin after all…that place is sort of like home in my head."

Home.

The place where her life almost ended was home. The place that had spawned the nightmares was a place of comfort.

Ralof eyed her suspiciously, noticing how sickly she looked. Her skin was always pale, but never so gray. Her eyes were sunken back in her skull, Her hair – something he wouldn't usually pay attention to – was lip and dull, making her almost look like a wet doll.

"Are you alright, Loish?"

She looked over at him curiously, some of that light coming back to her eyes. "Why do you ask?"

Is he said anything, he was pretty sure she would throw herself off a cliff. So he just smiled, bid her farewell and excused himself until another day. She promised she would be back through and he had no doubt she would be. But he couldn't let her go just so easily. He would follow after he gave her some time o catch up to the ruins. He needed to make sure she wasn't going to do something reckless, something that would get her killed.

Danger just loved the Dovahkiin.

* * *

The ruins of Helgen still smelt of soot and embers, even after so many months of minor abandonment.

Loish approached on Shadowmere's back cautiously, making him take slow steps, seeing the bodies staked out by the gates. Her blood seemed to boil at the sign. They were in _her _city. But she supposed that was the dragon blood inside of her, staking its claim on a place that had titled her Dovahkiin.

Shadowmere reared and whinnied as an arrow flew past. The Nord hissed and flung herself from Shadowmere's back, grabbing the newly sharpened blade at her hip and followed behind her seed. It wasn't much for him to fight. He was faster than he appeared and was smarter than those bandits. He dodged their attack easily while sending heavy strikes from his sharp hooves into any patch of flesh he could find.

Loish twisted to the right, catching of of the bandits readying an arrow against Shadowmere. She drove the blade to the hilt into his stomach, eliciting a cry of anguish. She pulled the blade out easily, blood dripping from the tip as she started towards an approaching mage. The ward was still clear, still weak and susceptible to physical attacks. Her sword cut at their face asily, nearly separating it from their body. Loish looked around realizing how painful the breaths in her chest were, and that she had gotten two out of ten. Shadowmere had taken care of the rest.

She took in a deep breath, cringing at the pain in her chest, and sheathed her sword. She heard Shadowmere snicker somewhere around a stone archway and she approached. She remembered running the arch with her hands bound, following an Imperial towards the keep. She stepped into the old courtyard, frowning when he saw the chopping block still there, still stained with blood of more than on murder.

She crouched beside it as Shadowmere pulled at a few blades of grass that were growing through the cracks in the cobblestone. Her fingers ran over the bloodstains, looking up when she saw the scorch marks i=on the ground.

Loish screamed and scrambled back towards Shadowmere, her heart racing against the corpse staring at her. It was burnt ad curled in on itself, flesh looking as tough as a dragon hide and its eyes…its eyes were still there, still staring at her with pain evident. It wasn't just the way it was looking at her, it was that she knew who it was by just the color of their eyes.

The priestess that tried to get her life spared, the one that tried to convince the captain that Loish was innocent.

"Oh God," she felt her stomach roll.

Loish twisted onto her hands and knees, trying to fight the urge to comit.

Why was _she _Dovahkiin?

There had to be someone more worthy, someone stronger. She was weak and even her gag reflex was a joke.

"Why the hell did you curse me," she screamed towards the sky.

Why not someone like Ulfric Stormcloak of even Ralof. Someone that was righteous and had the fighting skills to actually take on a dragon. Why not someone from the College of Winterhold, someone who was an expert with magic that would cripple Daedra but still had half a mind to know right from wrong, even with all that power.

Why not someone that wasn't her?

"_Dovahkiin…_"

Her spine prickled and she tried to find the shadowy figure but it wasn't there.

Her heart began to race, her nerves instantly becoming frazzled, palms sweaty.

But there was nothing, nothing to tell her that he was there or even approaching. So Loish swallowed thickly and scrambled to her feet, wiping off dust and other things attached to her armor. Shadowmere nuzzled her cheek and she wrapped her arms around his large neck, closing her eyes as she breathed in his scent. She felt safe with the demon horse watching her back. He always managed to help her somehow.

"Alright," she muttered, looking to the old inn she had once jumped into. "We can make camp here."

Shadowmere whinnied and took a few steps back, pawing at the ground. Loish smiled when the stallion shook his head and those wide, red eyes turned on her. Something seemed almost ethereal, not ominous, about that horse. But Loish didn't dwell on it longer than a moment, seeing the clouds beginning the roll in. Loish hurried and gathered burning materials and finally made a small campfire in the center of the inn. Shadowmere lingered outside the doorway, chomping on his bit with his eyes closed while Loish roasted slaughterfish over her shanty fire.

Loish curled her legs to her chest, holding them tightly with her arms and tucked her chin into her knees while she was watching the skin of the slaughterfish bubble in the heat of the fire. The scent was enough to make her stomach roll in pain. She was so hungry, but she didn't feel like eating. It wasn't the first time she had to force herself to eat. Food was necessary, she kept telling her body, but since arriving in Skyrim – she supposed – her appetite was alwaysr avenous but never did she have the urge to eat.

It was a confusing combination.

Her eyes fluttered for a moment but she lifted her head and wiped with her knuckles. No…no, she couldn't just fall asleep. Not yet. She felt as if she were waiting. For what, she still wasn't quite sure but apparently it was enough to make her drag her ass across the county. She sighed and lifted her head, determined to stay awake until she saw fit to do otherwise.

"I can do this," her voice sounded slightly hopeful; she sat there for a moment and a bird's cry echoed through the air. She hung her head. "Oh, who am I kidding, I'm worthless…"

As if to protest to her words, Shadowmere snorted at the ground and rolled those eyes to her. _Like a scolding parent…_

Loish sighed again and tucked her face back into her knees. "What am I doing…"

* * *

_It gets more exciting starting in the next chapter. Just had to get some stuff established, ya know? And if the plot line I've given you seemed a bit erratic and unsettled, it's meant to._


	5. The Wicked

_**Chapter was intended to be MUCH longer and MUCH better but I lost the document and had to type from a patchy memory. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and read my new story The Secret Biology of the Grievous. It starts with a snow elf and later collides with this story. So, to be short, they are related. **_

_**Oh, and don't forget to review!**_

* * *

_"You are Dragonborn..."_

_"Inquisitive aren't we..."_

_"My Listener..."_

* * *

Loish woke with a start.

Her heart was racing in her chest but she wasn't too focused on that; she was on her feet and barrelling past Shadowmere before she was truly awake.

The demonic steed blinked slowly and watched his mistress vomit onto the burnt cobblestone, her fingertips glistening with blood from her grip on the hard soil between stones. He shook his mane and gingerly approached her, his softs lips nuzzling her back and shoulders in a comforting gesture. She didn't notice his efforts right away, the constant heave of her shoulders made the rest of the world a little dull.

"Shadowmere," she groaned before vomiting again.

The horse whinnied and continued to nuzzle her gently. Her stomach rolled and Loish let out a small sob at the pain inaide of her; the acidic bile was rubbing her throat raw.

"Healing potion," she muttered, struggling to stand.

Shadowmere kept close, nusging her every minute or so as she limped towards the inn she had curled up in the previous night. Her right foot caught on the step up and Loish let out a small gasp as she went tumbling forward, Shadowmere neighing loudly in her ear. Loish cringed as she landed on the floor, her head knocing against an old burnt trunk; Shadowmere still caused a ruckus, rearing back onto his hind legs as the scent assaulted his nose. Loish looked back at him in utter confusion, her arms shaky as they supproted her torso.

Then she smelt it.

That awful, sense sharpening smell that made her skin prickle.

Her eyes shot wide and she scrambled to her feet, stumbling and fumbling with her armor. It hung limply from her haphazard buckling but she didn't care: the scent was getting stronger.

Sulfur and dragon hide.

"No, no, no," she whimpered as her healing potions tumbled from her knapsack and to the floor.

The bottles shattered, amber liquid leaking out into the wood, stretching for resistance. Loish grunted and looked up to the ceiling, hearing Shadowmere's hooves clicking sharply on the stone. Ebony wings clipped at the straw above her and Loish muttered a curse, resorting to the ball of light in her right hand.

Loish wasn't a big a big fan of magic but she knew basic restoration and alteration spells; she could fix herself.

But she had been harmed by more magic than the other Nords kidnapped by the Thalmor; she had more reasons to keep away from even her own spells.

Her ears pricked at the sound of wings clapping at the air and felt the thin wounds in her chest and throat re-stitching themselves. As the ground rumbled she cut the spell off, wounds barely healed, and grabbed the crossbow she had laid beside her bedroll, her bolts settled in the small of her back; on either hip rested two orcish swords glazed with poison, snuggled into their carved sheathes.

She stepped out of the inn hesitantly, cautiously. Usually she just charged in, she usually had confidence, but with her weakened state as of late she had to take caution.

Shadowmere paced, head low, like a wolf. His barrel chest heaved with heavy breaths and his nostrils flared, eyes seemingly brighter as they locked onto the ancient dragon in front of them.

He was perched on the old tower, his tail curled half way around the old stone. His talons gingerly gripped the edge of the tower but the stone crumbled anyway. As she stood there, trembling in fear, he slithered down from the tower, heavy ebony scales shining in the fresh light. He was mere feet from her and she still felt none of that courage when she had faced other dragons.

_"Dovahkiin," _he rumbled, that ancient tongue making her chest burned. _"Zu'u vis sahlon hin faas."_

"This isn't right," she ignored his words. "This just isn't..."

_"Hi zent vorey dovah?"_

She shook her head, raising the crossbow. "You will die here."

And he laughed at her, belittling her in the worst way. _"Hi dein surprising zey, joor," _he grinned menacingly. _"Zu'u los zofaas fah hi, tol fen dreh zuk aax fein pruzah."_

Loish grit her teeth and pulled down on the trigger.

The steel bolt, laced with Lotus Extract, sunk into his chest and Alduin let out a sharp cry; Loish was pretty sure it could be heard for miles. But she didn't wait to find out. She threw the crossbow to the ground and charged at him. She pulled her swords from their sheaths and drove them hilt-deep into his chest. He screamed again and Loish did the same, his wings startling her as they began to lift them into the air.

"Let me down!"

He let out a shrill cry, carrying them just above the trees. His scales were sharp and as he banked right, her arm scraped against them, forcing a sob from the Dovahkiins chest. His wings his her sides, beating her in the only way he could right now; if he pulled his legs up to claw at her, he would be forced down as well.

_"Gaar zey, joor!"_

"No!"

Now why did she say that? The only thing she wanted was to be let go? Did her subconcious have a hidden agenda? Apparently so.

Loish screamed again as the poison and hot dragon blood ran down into a long gash in the side of her arm. The blood was loosening her grip. Loish looked down through the tears, saw the hard ground below them. Perhaps she could let go above the water...she didn't have a chance. He wasn't headed towards the water. That would mean she lived, and he didn't want that; Loish could hear Shadowmere's neigh through the wind whistling in her ear and didn't have to look to know he was keeping up as best as he could under them.

Tears clouded her vision and her body was going numb, the pain from the poison and her already weakened state making it hard for her to keep her self conscious.

She let go.

Her fingers slipped on the blood and she felt herself falling, saw Alduin getting further and further. Her body fell from the sky like a rag doll. She didn't even scream as her body hit the hard ground, her skull knocking against it without a thought. Shadowmere was there, circling her like a mutt; he actually whined but could simply shield her from the harsh sun.

"Shadowmere," she breathed through bleeding lips.

Her chest convulsed and she spat up blood, felt it running down her arms and legs. She was nothing; her legs were bent at odd angles and she was spattered with blood, her armor tattered. Well, more than it was before. The armor was about four thousand years old.

_Ralof..._

_Nazir..._

_Babette..._

_Veezara..._

_Aela..._

_Vilkas..._

_Farkas..._

"I'm sorry," she whispered, closing her eyes, the pain beginning to spread from her fingertips.

* * *

He stared down at the pile of bodies, saw the large bleeding gashes and knew that horse had done this. Had Loish thought he didn't notice? He had almost been killed by that horse before, before he even knew who she was. A woman in black and red armor had been on it's back and he had gotten in the way; they had almost ran him over.

Ralof slid down from his horses back and kept a hold on the reigns, making sure it didn't charge away. It was a feisty horse, a jumpy one at that. But it was the only one in the stables so slim pickings.

"Her camp is still here," he muttered, seeing vomit on the ground. "I knew she was sick..."

The horse reared back on it's hind legs when a dragon's cry rang through the air. Ralof looked to the sky but saw nothing; he could hear the wings, but saw nothing. That demon horse was gone and so was Loish, the dragon...

"Dammit," he hauled himself up onto his horse and twisted him to the right, headed towards the road again.

He saw the dragon in the distance and his brow furrowed. He dug his heels into the dark horses belly and it's hooves picked up. It reared again as a heavy mass of dark red shot out in front of them. Ralof pulled back on the reigns, grounding his horse before he started following that demon horse. Where was Loish? She would be on it's back, right?

"By the Eight," he leap from the horse before it fully stopped, his worry overpowering his common sense and he saw Loish.

She looked like a battered rag doll, bloody and worn. Her armor hung loosely, revealing things only a lover should see but he was more concerned by the violently red gashes in the sides of her arms. Blood coated her lips and ran in her hair, she was missing a few nails and he could smell the sickening scent of poison coming from somewhere on her person. He looked to the right, seeing the black dragon landing somewhere in the trees in the distance. If he were stupid, he would go after it, finish it off but he needed to tend to her.

"What'd you do, Loish," he muttered, trying to maneuver his arms around her without jostling her.

She moaned in pain and the demon horse neighed loudly, looking angry. But it did nothing and Ralof sighed in relief, turning back to his horse.

But it was gone.

"Seriously," he yelled.

He turned to the red eyed steed, saw it staring at him with heaving breaths. It snorted and shook it's head, pawing at the ground before it rose it's head higher.

"She is yours," Ralof stated.

It snorted again.

"Fuck."

* * *

_**I hate how this ended but...well, the excitement picks up in the next chapter. And this chapter was pretty short but I hope it's ok. Review please?**_


	6. In Oblivion

**_This is to make up for that horrible last chapter. Oh, and I couldn't find the name of Gerdur and Hod's son anywhere online. Is that even their son? The one that's always followed by the dog?_**

* * *

_Her legs dangled off the edge of the old sentry post, Bleak Falls to her back. She and Farkas had just cleared out the place and she held the Dragonstone tightly in her hands. Her fingers traced over the ancient carvings and she felt the power radiating from the strange, flaky, material._

_"Troubles coming to terms, shield-sister."_

_She looked up and over at Farkas, who was standing just behind her and to the right. "Have I really been over here that long?"_

_He nodded but a small smile twitched in the corners of his mouth. "Come. The fire is warm."_

_Farkas._

_A man of simple pleasures and simple sentences._

_She nodded once and wobbled to her feet, curling her right arm protectively around the stone tablet she was to bring back to Farengar. As she settled on top of her small pallet of skins she had laid out, Loish purred in the warmth of the fire. Though she thrived in the cold, Loish had no quarrel with a warm fire. Especially when a man like Farkas was watching her back. She had seen him take in seven arrows from the Draugr before he knew what was going on and he still felt nothing. Now he was healed thanks to the potions she had in her pack, but she still felt bad. It had been her fault. She didn't know about the bags of bones lying in their dugouts, waiting to pounce on unsuspecting adventurers like her._

_"You seem preoccupied tonight."_

_She blinked slowly as she looked up to him. "I'm terribly sorry."_

_"Why?"_

_Sometimes she disliked the blunt way he spoke. "I just…am."_

_He stared at her for a moment longer. "He plagues your mind, yes?"_

_Her whole body tensed and Farkas could see the faint black aura wrapped around her. "He is of none of your concern, Farkas."_

_His eyes darkened as well. "He is bad."_

_"Quiet," she quipped._

_"You must learn to trust in your shield-siblings, Loish," he leaned back slightly. "Those that hurt you, do not care for you in the slightest."_

* * *

Her gasp was loud as she drank in the air around her. Her back was straight and her eyes were closed, torso wrapped in warm cloth and her hair felt clean of blood and dirt. Her whole torso heaved with the effort to hold the air in her lungs and she finally opened her eyes, looking left and right fiercely, like a wild animal. Faendal was there in an instant, pressing a thick green salve into the hollow of her throat. A heavy odor of mint filled the air and she began to sputter, the smell making her cough, stinging her nose but opening her throat.

"Faendal, thank you."

Loish saw Ralof and Gerdur hovering near the foot of the bed, Gerdur more off the side. Hod was sitting at the small table in the corner, even is rugged face conveying concern. "I-I," Loish tried to speak as Faendal left the house but found herself incapable.

"Quiet," Gerdur intervened as the young Nord tried to pull herself out of bed. "You'll only make it worse."

Loish looked around in confusion. Make what worse?

The memories came flooding back to her and Loish froze under a matting of saber furs. She had been flying. Swords buried in Alduins chest. The burning of the poison, the shattered bones and Shadowmere's incessant neighing that conveyed concern but only a headache as she lay on the ground, crumpled and broken. Broken! As she flexed her fingers, she found no pain and was able to kick the blankets away with only a slight pulse of bruising pain in her thighs. No scars, no broken bones.

"Broke both yer legs and ya right arm," Ralof spoke slowly. "Told ya not to go back there."

"Something was waiting for me," she croaked.

"Yeah, a bloody dragon," he growled.

She cringed at his harsh tone. "I didn't expect him to be there," she mumbled.

Gerdur glared at her brother, pointing towards the door. "Out. Now."

He didn't object, just left without a word and Hod followed him, the door shutting softly behind them. Loish looked down at her lap and finally saw the faint scarring on her legs. But it was nothing, something she couldn't decide whether was grand or sad. When she looked back up at Gerdur, she found curiosity and sympathy in her eyes.

"I didn't know," Loish mumbled like a lost child.

Gerdur hushed her like she used to do to her son when he had nightmares. But Loish wasn't crying hysterically like Gerdur expected from the sensitive soul. She was just staring at the older woman with such hurt in her eyes she didn't need to shed a tear. Gerdur knew Loish wasn't the most open book, but she wasn't a total recluse. She knew Loish would usually be a sniveling, sobbing heap right now which didn't fit the title Dovahkiin so well. The hero of the mortal race should be strong and fearless. Loish was none of these things.

"Why did you go, Loish," Gerdur questioned.

"I had a dream," the ebony haired misfit started. "A dream that I would return to Helgen and _something _would be waiting for me. I thought it was nothing but as I sat there, thinking about it, I just couldn't stop myself and Shadowmere brought me here without me even telling him."

"Shadowmere?"

Loish's eyes shot wide. "Oh my – Shadowmere, my horse! Where is he?"

Gerdur frowned then. "That thing? It won't come into town. After it helped Ralof carry you back, it's taken to the river outside of town."

Loish's heart was racing in her chest; when was it not racing? "I have to make sure he's ok."

Gerdur pushed her back into bed as she struggled to get up. "No, you are still weak. You stay right here. That damned horse is fine."

The Dragonborn looked up with such child-like concern for her 'pet'. "You sure?"

"Yes, keeps chasing our chickens. He's fine."

Loish giggled and settled back into the pillows. "What was Faendal doing here?"

"Well," Gerdur crossed her legs and leaned further back into her chair. "Seeing as we don't have a proper healer in town, Faendal is the best we have. He tended to your wounds with magic and potions."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Three, four day's maybe? I tend to lost track when I work."

Loish nodded slowly. Four days in bed, four days since she was nearly killed by an insane impulse she got from a dream. And Alduin still got away, still got away with his life and her swords in tow. She was the Dragonborn, she was supposed to kill him and when she tries, she fails. Why was she marked as the hero of man-kind?

"Faendal voiced some concern about your current state of being."

Loish looked over at Gerdur, who looked hesitant to speak. "Did he give any details on why he was concerned?"

The aging mill worker frowned ever-so-slightly. "Not really, he just seemed to be very confused on something when he was checking you over. Said he heard something he didn't think he should. Perhaps whenever the work day is through, I will ship him over to discuss it with you."

Loish nodded slowly, her concern growing. What was wrong with her now?

* * *

Loish sat patiently in a chair on the front porch of the Riverwood Trader. She smiled and waved at people passing through town, feeling so much like Sven's mother Hilde. She was only _half_-sane.

The young Nord hadn't been allowed outside for two days and had just convinced everyone she wasn't as fragile as glass. So they had told her to stick to the Trader so she would be seen if she fell out. Loish would have put up a better fight if while in the middle of her protests she hadn't randomly collapsed, as if fate was trying to prove its point that she wasn't as capable as she thought right now. The independent thoughts alone were something that intrigued her because all Loish seemed to be capable of was belittling herself. She was a self-doubter from Oblvion. But, as the days drug on, she found herself feeling capable of anything.

Anything.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," she spoke, feeling Ralof's presence at her back.

"Where are ya headed?"

"Markarth," she stared to the West. "And don't protest, I can make it just fine."

She heard him grumble. "I know I can't stop ya," he sighed. "You know, there's a man in town looking for you. Says he's a Companion."

Her ears pricked at those words. "Why haven't I seen him?"

"Said he didn't want you to know he was here."

"Prick," Loish pushed herself to her wobbly feet. "Where the hell is he?"

Ralof looked apprehensive about letting her meet the man 'Vilkas' but somehow knew the battle was already lost now that she was on her feet. He took her hand gently and began to lead her back towards Gerdurs home but took an abrupt left, revealing a small worn path in the dirt that carved up the rocky hill over the Sleeping Giant Inn. Loish looked up at Ralof with slight confusion in her eyes; she hadn't known there was anything here. But that was probably the point.

As they passed a large maple, the dappled mare Loish had come to recognize so well came into view. Her large amber eyes rolled to the wounded woman and conveyed the most emotion a horse could. But Loish was more focused on Vilkas sitting on an overturned log. And he was focused on her, jaw tense.

"Son of a bitch," Loish mumbled.

"Quiet," Vilkas stood. "I came on behalf of Aela."

"Of course you did."

She hated how swiftly their moods would change. They were always at odds. One moment they would be playful and the next they would be ready to tear each other's throats out. It was a whirlwind relationship that gave Loish whiplash.

"Well, you see me, leave."

He narrowed his eyes. "I came to take you home."

"My home is in Dawnstar."

"Your _home_ is among your shield-siblings."

"So we can glare at each other over our venison," Loish shook her head. "I don't think so."

Vilkas sighed. "I knew I shouldn't have come."

"But Aela would have tied you to the posts for archery practice."

"Exactly."

Loish smiled gently at him and he seemed to smile back. Ralof looked between the two and cleared his throat slightly. "I'm headed back to the mill to see if Gerdur has any work left before I leave," he looked over at Vilkas. "You can escort h-"

"I can handle myself, Ralof," she growled.

He raised his hands in defense and squeezed his lips shut, walking away before she attacked. As she watched his back disappear through the dense brush, she heard Vilkas clear his throat behind her. When she turned her attention to him, he was staring at her with obviously mixed emotions. And she didn't blame him. Friction had been a thing between them since they met but the past couple of months had just gotten worse.

"Ever think we can be civilized towards each other," Vilkas tried.

And Loish shook her head, leaning heavily on the dappled mare that was pining for her attention. "No, I don't think we can ever be normal around each other. Why do you ask?

He shrugged. "The passive-hostile routine is grating on my nerves. You are my Harbinger, I should not feel any sort of hostility towards you."

Loish nodded. "I guess we just weren't meant to be partners, Vilkas."

It was his turn to nod and then he changed the subject. "How did you come to be so battered?"

"Oh," she looked down at herself, legs draped in silky blue fabric. "I fell from a dragon."

He blinked slowly. "Excuse me?"

She nodded, looking back up to him. "Alduin. That's what was waiting for me at Helgen. I struck him, my swords ran deep and I didn't let go until my grip slipped on his blood. Hit the ground from too high. Broke too many bones to count…Gerdur says I'm lucky to be alive…"

"But."

She smiled at him gently. "But…but there's a wood elf that's been taking care of me and he says something is wrong inside of me. He just doesn't know what it is. Suggests I see the Arch-Mage at the College of Winterhold."

"Magic," Vilkas scoffed.

"Quiet," she urged. "Listen…I'm going to Markarth tomorrow. When I return, I will be staying in Whiterun for a short time so please, ready my quarters. Perhaps we can do a group recon mission again, hmm? See how well we still interact as a group?"

Vilkas nodded. "That is the woman Kodlak left to keep us together."

Loish smiled fully this time. "Care to have lunch with a failing woman?"

* * *

_She couldn't scream, because it would fall on deaf ears. She couldn't cry, because the tears would be shed for no one._

_She was alone._

_She was nothing._

_She pressed her hands flat against the clear glass, golden hair spilling over her shoulders. Her fists pounded on the hard glass, though her own mind protested, its reason hid behind the urge to get out. But they continued to examine her, like the little prize she was._

_"Please," she sobbed, her knees curled under her. "Please let me out!"_

_Ignoring her, one of the hobbling men pressed his chubby fingers into the cerulean cube and she screamed again, this time out of utter agony and terror. Pain rippled up her spine and danced at the tips of her fingers. Tears ran down sharp cheeks and a strangled sob came from her throat. Why?! Why must she go through this pain?!_

_"Please," it was barely heard through pale lips._

_And she screamed again._

_And again._

_And again._

* * *

Ralof watched from the door as Loish tossed and turned in her sleep. She mumbled in a strange language, it was not even Dovah tongue. He could see that dark aura settling around her, like a protective ward. Ralof didn't want to think about the dark magic Loish was dabbling in these days. He hadn't seen her in three months and the last time he _had _seen her, she had been coated in blood. Her armor had been the same as that woman that liked to run him down on the same damn horse.

Loish was a friend, a dear one at that, and he feared she was headed down a path she would never be able to come back from.

"Ya know, is she knows you've been watchin her while she sleeps, she'll never come back."

Ralof looked back at Gerdur, smiling before he nodded, looking back into the room. "I am just concerned over a friend."

"As am I, but I do not watch her sleep."

Ralof chuckled and pushed away from the door. "Right…right," he watched her arranging the plates and baskets for morning eggs and toasted rolls. "Getting things ready rather early, sister."

Gerdur nodded, dusting her hands against each other. "I do it some nights, less work for me," she gestured for him to sit while she fetched two tankards of mead. "Will you be leaving with her for Markarth in the morning?"

Ralof took the tankard while Gerdur sat across from him. "No, I have other duties. Though I would rather follow her than stick to the recon jobs we're having for the moment."

Gerdur huffed. "Be lucky you have _any _part in this war, Ralof."

The Nord rolled his eyes and took a slow sip from his mead, hearing Hod snoring in the other room. "How do you sleep through that?"

"I don't."

Both siblings jumped when a loud crash went through the home, father and son remaining heavily asleep, draped over their own beds. Ralof stood while Gerdur just watched in concern, eyes hovering around the door frame to where Loish had been sleeping. They watched, as though they were waiting for a demon to spring out, and one almost did. Instead of a demon, it was Loish. Her pupils were dilated beyond recognition and she had her knapsack slung over her shoulder, that tattered Nord armor hanging loosely from her body.

She whipped her head from left to right, searching for something and obviously finding it in Ralof. "I'm leaving," she seemed to be out of breath.

"You're wounds haven't healed yet," Gerdur stood this time. "Loish, just rest one more night."

The Dovahkiin shook her head tightly, shuffling towards the door, back against the wall like they would pounce on her if she decided to turn her back on them. "I can't," desperation coated her tongue and she fumbled with the door handle. "I'm sorry," she left it cracked for a moment, one bright eye peering through the splintered wood. "Tell Vilkas I'm sorry…"

Ralof and Gerdur stared at the door, long after it had clicked, and then Ralof charged out the door. By the time he reached the center of town, several people were already talking about the young woman that had torn through the middle of town on the back of a horse with glowing eyes.

"Loish," he mumbled to himself, feeling truly lost. "Loish, what are you doing?"


	7. It Burns

**_Thank you Lydia (Guest) for reviewing. You have no clue how disappointed Vilkas will be and they have plenty of reasons to fear for her._**

**_A/N: The jibberish in bold and everything between the lines is courtesy of The Preacher from Fallout 3._**

* * *

**_Fire._**

**_Fire.._**

**_Fire…_**

**_Fire…!_**

**_Fire..!_**

**_Fire.!_**

**_Fire!_**

* * *

He dug his heels into the mare's sides, following the rough tracks in the mud.

He pulled a hard right on the reigns and the mare let out a horrible whinny, turning at his command after some slipping. Her lungs huffed horribly and he knew he should stop, he knew he should let her rest, let her at least _breath_, but he couldn't.

All he could think of was **_her_**.

Loish.

He had tracked her all the way to the swamps of Hjaalmarch and he wasn't sure what she was doing here. He knew of nothing that meant something to her being here. She never spent much time in the swamps, said they were haunted, said she didn't like them.

_"Eyes," _she whispered one night to Farkas while Vilkas eavesdropped from the door; nosey bugger. _"Always watching me out there. Shadowmere get's spooked all the time…"_

He now understood why and often wondered of the rumors of old tribes running through these murky waters.

* * *

_Hungry…hungry…so hungry. What? No. I'm not hungry._

_The worm is hungry._

_Hungry for me._

_For fire._

* * *

"Loish," he held tight to the mare's reigns, standing in the soft ground to her right. "Loish! Dammit!"

He tied the horse to one of the spindly little trees and started walking, peering briefly to his right in the old ruins of Kjenstag. The wind whistled through the abandoned stone and Vilkas began to jog, feeling his skin prickling under his armor. She couldn't have gotten that damn far…her tracks stopped awhile back. No hoof prints, no boot prints. Nothing. It was like she had just _vanished. _But that's not possible, even with all of the magic and shit running around Skyrim.

"What happened, Loish," he breathed, a cold wind blowing over him.

* * *

**_Trees!_**

_So many trees! _

_Be careful, trees are __deadly__!_

**_IT BURNS!_**

**_WHY DOES IT BURN!?_**

* * *

"You can't just run off," Gerdur breathed. "I just got you back."

Ralof paused and looked over at her, his fingers still curled around the saddle bag, the buckle. Gerdur was staring at him with these big, blue eyes – so much like his own – and he hesitated. What was he doing? Loish didn't want anyone to follow her but after that Companion – what was his name? Vilkas? – had taken off, Ralof felt like he had to run as well. He needed to find her, she was his closest friend. He was the first person she knew in Skyrim.

_"You saved my life Ralof…"_

He shook his head and buckled the bag. "I have to go after her, you know this Gerdur," he turned to her, arms loose at his sides. "What if she's in real trouble? What if…"

Gerdur shook her head. "What if you get yourself hurt over this and she's perfectly fine," she tried; she didn't want to lose her brother to a situation she was fearful of. "Look, she is the Dovahkiin. She can handle herself."

Gerdur was wrong. She was wrong. Loish couldn't handle something like this. Whatever it was. This had something to do with that damn elf. He would kill the son of a bitch. Maybe…"

"I know where she is," Ralof gasped. He turned around and stuck his foot into the stirrup, hoisting himself up onto the horses back with a huff. "I know where she is an I'm gonna get her back."

"Ralof," Gerdur jogged beside the horse, which was huffing and grunting. "Wait a minute – where the hell are you going? Where is she?"

"Markarth," he dug his heels into the horse's side a little more. "I swear I'll be back soon! One week!"

* * *

**Not one step further!**

**Not one!**

**_Come no closer_****_!_**

**_I'll do _****_it_****_! _**

**_All of us!_**

**_Me! You!_****_...and the worm…_**

* * *

**_I know it's short, but it's perfect in my eyes. This was the chapter it begins to pick up. The next chapter is pretty gory and so is the next. Very violent, very sadistic. You have been warned and you will be warned again at the beginning of the next chapter._**


	8. Dark Waters

_**I am in love with this chapter. I really am. Once again, thank you Lydia for your review.**_

_**Warning: Brief Necrophilia.**_

* * *

Patrolling the halls of the Understone Keep was becoming a tedious chore.

He had expected to be called back three weeks prior to this night but he had received no word from his superiors. A Courier he had sent out of Markarth had returned the previous night with grim news. None.

As he opened the doors to his chambers, he didn't notice the candle flickering beside his desk chair. He shut the doors and locked them firmly, pausing to hear a guard settle outside the door. He pushed back his hood, running a hand over his freshly shaved head and he unclipped the hood from his overcoat, tossing it onto the table at the end of his newly acquired bed. He had taken the room from Igmund, the current Jarl of the stone city. The trickle of water coming from the opposite side of the room was relaxing in a strange way; there was a damn waterfall in his room.

He began to ceremoniously unclip his over coat, pausing on the final button. His fingers shook for a moment and he looked up, eyes shaking on the glass in front of him. For once, he was stricken with fear. In the reflection of the glass, he saw the figure slumped in the chair, elbow braced near the half-melted candle, on his desk. The longer he stared, the more his eyes adjusted, but all that was revealed was the warm glow of fire against their hair.

The head tilted up, one eye opened and it glowed red for a moment before being swallowed by darkness.

"Ondolemar…" she purred.

Her voice was deep and throaty, strangely accented and it sounded like…gurgling.

He hastily buttoned his coat and turned around to her, twisting the fingers on his right hand, he flicked his wrist towards the ceiling. The Magelight hit the stone, lighting the room in a sharp, white, light.

She was slouched in the chair, sitting quite like a Jarl. The Nord armor she wore hung on her far too loosely to be acceptable and her feet were bare. Her hair was a tangled in a mess on the top of her head, mud streaked her forehead but it was all the blood that got him.

It splashed up across her nose and ran in a thick smear down her mouth and chest, drying on her armor. It was like she had ripped out someone's – or something's – throat out with her teeth.

Her knuckles brushed against her left cheek and she lifted her head fully, grinning at him; there were those red eyes again, if only for a moment. "Ondolemar," she pushed herself up, chest first, almost _oozing _out of the chair. "Sweetheart, why so shocked to see me?"

He hesitated. "Loish," he did not mean to sound so weak, but this image was more than he could handle – with her in the picture, it was too much. "What in Oblivio –"

"So hungry," she mumbled, as if she were in a trance. She swayed closer to him, running a bloody finger up his chest; were those _claws__? _"You have lost your guards, hmm? What, they abandoned you?"

"They were discha –"

"They were cowards," she cocked her head to the right, her bottom lip jutting out.

He caught himself and narrowed his eyes at her. He abruptly took her biceps in his large hands and shook her a little. "_Stop _cutting me off, worm," he growled. "How dare you believe you have any right to speak before me?"

Those wide eyes of her turned doe and then the irises shined, glossed over. She grinned and ran her hands up his chest, her lips falling at his throat and she dug her nails in. His knees crumbled and he was kneeling to her, pain twisting those once beautiful features under her gaze. She showed no remorse, lifting her right hand up and running her tongue up the palm of her hand, purring at the flavor of his blood.

"You know," she hummed, pushing him down. He flailed on the ground, fingers glowing as he tried to heal his wounds. She plunked down on top of him, raising her rear higher into the air as she leaned towards his face, pulling his hands away gently. "I actually _protected _you from the words of my friends," she slid her fingers back into his wounds so easily; pain twisted his fingers. "And it took this _thing _to show me just how much you used me," her face cringed in grief and she pressed her lips against his right cheek. "I loved you and all you did was use me…"

The scars on her, all inflicted by him, and for the longest time she just supported him. She had gone back to him several times, insisting he loved her. She now saw how truly evil he was, just what he had done to her. All that he had done to her.

"Loish," he tried to speak but blood pushed up past his lips, into his ears.

"No," she growled, feeling bone, surprised he was still alive. "You will _die_ you monster. Right here. No one will be able to repair this."

In one swift movement, she pulled up, tugging a few times before she heard the satisfying snap.

She sat back on his groin, staring into his beautiful eyes.

She smiled and pulled his lips against hers, feeling them already cold and lifeless. Her tongue slid across those sharp canines and then she pulled away, tossing the head to the side. As it rolled, she swiftly undid the buttons of his coat, spreading it open and digging into the pockets on the inside of the coat. Her hand pulled out an Amulet of Arkay, her grin lessening to a pleased smile, and she stood, looking over at his severed head.

Her face turned to one of a lost young woman.

"I loved you…"

* * *

**Beware ****WORM****!**

**I SHALL DESTROY YOU WITH THE FIRE.**

_The small sun before me._

_BEWARE WORM!_

_Not one step __further__!_

* * *

When he arrived at the gates of Markarth, his heart dropped at seeing the guards posted outside. It was normal to have guards, but not this many.

Ralof pulled back on the reigns of the horse, sliding from its back with his eyes locked on the tall gates that opened. The gold-ish colored doors glimmered in the sunlight and he passed off his horse to a stable hand. Soldiers began to trickle out of the gates, carrying bodies on makeshift stretchers. The armor carted out behind the last of the soldiers was Elven. Thalmor. But amongst that horrid armor was plain steel and leather, guard armor.

"She swept through here with a blood lust."

Ralof jumped and whipped around, seeing Vilkas looking pretty haggard. He wore the bottom half of his Wolf Armor but a plain green tunic across his chest, streaked with dirt and blood. Ralof's hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. He didn't know what to do with himself.

"What are you doing here?"

Vilkas looked over at the soldiers carrying out bodies; they were lining them up, getting them ready for burial. "Been helpin dig holes for the dead," he looked Ralof up and down. "Care to follow me?"

He hesitated and then nodded, following behind the Companion. The longer they walked, the more tension Ralof could feel in the air. The soldiers laying out bodies looked up under the cover of their helmets, their faces haggard, tired. They must have been gathering bodies all night. He looked away, feeling like a nuisance. He had tried to beat her here, hoping to catch her, but not because he thought she would attack the city, but because he didn't want her running into that damned Elves arms like she did every time life got too hard.

"You knew she would come here," Vilkas turned on him once they reached the bodies. "What did you think she was doing?"

Ralof stumbled back a step. "I – She –" he hesitated, swallowed hard. "An Elf…she was in love with an elf that resided in the Keep. He was a Thalmor," his eyes narrowed on the ground in anger. "I was coming to stop her…to tell her she didn't need him…"

Vilkas stared at the wanna-be White Knight; he was lost. "Well, she got to him," Ralof looked up. "Wanna see?"

He was confused, but he nodded anyway. Vilkas grunted and turned around, walking over to a long sheet and pulling it down. "This is what she left of him," he looked down at the body with a weird look on his face. "Don' know what happened to the head."

The body was indeed headless, the neck horribly shredded, bits of flesh streaked in the sand. Blood slowly oozed out of the hole and Ralof had to look away, covering his mouth with his hand; Ralof was never one for gore, even though he was a soldier. Vilkas was just staring at the body, not the least bit concerned about this. He knew something was wrong with Loish, but he didn't think she would do something like _this._

Especially if she had claimed to love them.

"Do you have any idea where else she could have went?"

Ralof looked up at Vilkas. "I…I really don't…this was the only place she ever ran off to…"

Vilkas stared at him quietly for a long time. The twitch of his brow. He was lying, badly. "You're a liar."

The soldier glared at him. "No I'm not."

"Whatever," Vilkas covered the body of Ondolemar up again and dusted his hands off on his tunic. "I'm gonna get a tracker. You can run around Skyrim looking for her blindly. Or…you can tell me where she went and we can work together to find her."

Ralof just stared at Vilkas. What were they gonna do? Loish…what was she doing? Why did she kill the elf? Why is she doing all of this?

"Maybe…maybe she doesn't want to be found…"

Vilkas narrowed his eyes. "Are you stupid?"

Ralof shook his head. "What if she just…what if she left without letting any of us go with her for a reason? I mean, she always has a reason for everything she does. This isn't much different than when she ran off to Solstheim. She came back alive and said she prevented a horrible disaster."

Vilkas stared at him, remembering that limited knowledge she gave of her disappearance.

But he wasn't going to fall for it. "No," he began to stalk off towards the stables, to his horse that had his armor on its back. "No, you can go back home, I'm going to find her."

"She'll hate you for it," Ralof didn't move.

* * *

**_It's shorter than my usual chapters but obviously longer than the last chapter._**


	9. Two Months

**_Sorry it's been so long guys, I meant to update sooner but well…I always have an excuse don't I? This time it was my muses fault, she just wouldn't cooperate with me. This kind of sucks, but it's more of a filler than anything._**

* * *

_A plane of Oblivion._

_It stretches in front of her, flat and misty, trees bordering her in a broad circle. This place, it's familiar. Where is she? It is not Sovngarde, it is not the Shimmering Isles…where is she? _

_She twists her head to the right, hearing something clap at the non-existent wind. She sees the mist swirling. Something is there, something is watching her through the mist. She is being watched and she does not like that. She growls, but it's not quite a growl, more like a rumble. Thunder. A Thu-um. _

_No, not here. Not right now._

_Her chest is clenching, ready to burst._

_No…not here…_

* * *

The sun is setting over Lake Ilinalta.

Ralof watches it setting with a shovel in his hand, feeling a splinter slipping under the tender skin of his fingertips. He flinches and switches the shovel to his other hand, pulling the small piece of wood from his finger before he started shoveling dirt again. The graves stretch across the ground, he's not the only one digging.

"Here."

Ralof looks up, smiles at his sister, takes the goblet of cherry wine. "I need this," he mutters, taking a deep swig.

Gerdur smiles then it fades as glimpses at the graves stretching across the riverbank. "By the Gods," she shakes her head. "This war is…"

"Now, it's useless."

She never thought she would hear those words from Ralof. He had believed so strongly in Ulfric, but the past two months…

"It's not her fault, you know."

Ralof set the goblet beside the twisted roots of a fern tree and stabbed the end of his shovel into the dirt again. "I never said I thought that."

"You will blame it on her, though," Gerdur leaned against the splintered bark. "That you were so worried about her, about how the entire province is freaking out because she is gone. The dragons are running amok, everything is disorganized…"

"Gerdur…"

That was all he had to say, her name said so solidly. She had tried to touch on the subject twice before but it had only solved the problem temporarily. Two months ago, she had been waiting for him to return. He was tired and worn, having buried nearly an armies worth of dead Markarth guards and then huffed it on a worn-out horse all the way across the country. The horse was dead. It died not but a week later, Ralof had worked it too hard. He admitted to not having let it rest, making it run until he hit Markarth then making it continue to walk until he reached the Falkreath pine forests. Then he made it run again. Until it just couldn't and walked into Riverwood.

Ralof had bailed out of the army a month later without so much as an excuse as to why he wanted to do so. He was one of the best men in the army, Ulfric had believed in him and then he just bailed.

Then the news spread that the Dovahkiin was gone, disappeared after a slaughter in Markarth. Killing her secret-lover, killing too many guards to count. The thing about her disappearances was that no one tried to find her, no one had sent out search parties like some of the smaller towns. The cities she was Thane of just speculated, came up with their own rumors, their own excuses and speculations.

"Fine," Gerdur muttered. "Bu –"

A howl cut through the air, making Ralof's skin prickle. Heads lifted, twisted and another howl rang through the air; Gerdur flinched, pushing away from the tree. Ralof stretched an arm out and around, across Gerdur's middle. Another howl, accompanied by two others.

"Wolves," she whispered.

"Werewolves," Ralof whispered, dropping the shovel into the grave he had been digging. "Go inside," he pushed Gerdur towards Riverwood, sweeping his arm towards the town as everyone looked to him. "Everyone! Get inside your homes! Bring in your animals, your children!"

Bodies were left in the dirt, women rushed to get home, hoping to save their children. A few men stayed, still watching the hills but Ralof urged them to go back, those that had families stayed in town. The others went with him to stop them before (if) they reached the town. It was just him, Faendal and two others. Not enough for an undetermined amount of beasts that were a possible threat.

Hooves pounded on the cobblestone moving out of town, the gates slamming shut on their small walls. Ralof hoped the small walls would be enough in case this little mission failed.

They hit the trees, two horses in the back nipping at each other. Pine needles shot out behind them, fresh soil exposed to the air. This was something he needed, to kill a werewolf. Any luck, it would be that pack of blasted Companions. Preferably, Vilkas. There was some kind of deep hatred for the warrior. He had repeatedly disrupted Ralof's life by trying to find Loish, someone who obviously didn't want to be found.

"Heel," Ralof barked, pulling back on the reigns as the loud roar erupted through the trees.

His horse reared, dancing on its back legs as its hooves struck out against the distorted mass waving in front of him. He heard the other horses being shredded, heard the flesh fall, the men screaming. Bad idea. Bad idea, this was a bad idea and it was going bad so fast. But he couldn't look away from the monster in front of him, it wasn't attacking. Its claws were curved around the uneven ground beneath its feet, its shoulders swaying heavily. It…it wouldn't attack him, it was stuck on him. Was it smiling at him? It seemed like it, he could see those broad teeth gleaming at him in the dimming afternoon sun.

"Ralof," it was Faendal.

The noises rushed back to him, swirling around his head and he jerked the reigns to the right, pulling his horse out of the path of the beast. It snarled and snapped its jaws at his horse feet, herding it. Ralof stared in almost horror and then someone else's hand was pulling on his reigns. Faendal, with a gash in his forehead. Ralof stared at him dejectedly, still not all the way there.

"Come on, Jacobs is bleeding. We got two of them," his sword was dripping with blood as he clenched his own reigns. "There's too many though, we have to go!"

Ralof nodded, trying to come back. The beast was still staring at him, getting ready to stand. "Come on," he dug his heels into his horse's sides.

He stares as they run, sees three more wolves crowding around the one still transfixed by him. They nuzzled its chest then went to the bodies of their fallen pack members, nudging them then barking at each other.

They were speaking.

And he heard his name on their tongue.

"They _what?!_"

Ralof was hovering over Faendal where he sat in the chair in their kitchen. Ralof insisted Faendal (he and the elf had become close since he had returned to Riverwood) come so he could patch up a wound in his calf. The werewolves hadn't gotten him too bad, Jacobs was suffering worse in the Sleeping Giant Inn; when you stood outside, you could hear him screaming as Delphine worked on his deep wounds. Turns out one of the wolves' claws broke off in his leg, there were bits of shrapnel from the impact inside and Delphine was having a hard time pulling the pieces out.

"I heard my name," Ralof muttered, biting off the end of the thread. He gripped his knees, needle still in his hand. "They said my damn name."

Gerdur shook her head, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Do you…do you think they'll come into town? Do you think they're looking for you?"

Ralof shook his head. "I'm not sure," he straightened his back. "But…I might leave," Gerdur opened her mouth, as if to protest. "Somewhere safe, Gerdur. Either in one of the tombs or in one of the larger cities. I don't want to put you in anymore danger than I already have."

Gerdur rolled her eyes and then let her arms hang. "I get into this willingly," she sighed. "I'm going to sleep," she pointed at both he and Faendal. "_Don't_….get into any trouble, alright?"

They waved her away and Faendal leaned back in the chair, staring at the fire. "We have to do something…they'll slaughter everyone in town…"

Ralof nodded. "We need to find them…"

"I can mention you," Faendal rubs his knee. "If they're really hunting you…they'll understand me."

Ralof stared at Faendal. "I don't want you to get hurt," he muttered.

Faendal snorted, standing and wobbling for a moment. "You treat me like a child."

Ralof rolled his eyes and stood as well, moving towards the door, knowing Gerdur was listening. "I'll head for Whiterun," he hated the bad taste in his mouth. "Speak to the Companions, see if they know about this."

Faendal nodded, leading Ralof out the door. The stars stretched out above them, making Ralof smile slightly. The night sky was beautiful, he admitted, to only himself. He and the elf did not speak as they trailed towards the stables, frowning deeply as he noticed the nervousness of the horses. Their hooves were dancing in the sand and they were whickering excessively.

Maybe this was a bad idea…

* * *

_"Aalkos gahroot nii…"_

_It's burning again…burning, burning, burning…oh it's burning._

_But she is listening, listening with concentrated ears. Because if she doesn't, it will continue to burn._

_Her voice takes on a deep quality, a voice not her own. "Geh," she whispers…_

_And it burns…_

_It burns, it burns, it burns…_


End file.
